Tired
by Be Summer Rain
Summary: That's it, really. That's why she left.


_Tired_

Lately she's felt like she's suffocating, and every window she sees is nailed shut. She can't stay at her mother's much longer; it's far too small and her children are getting restless. She is too, for that matter, but she can't think where else to go. Maybe Elliot would be willing to leave the house, but she wouldn't ask him. That would be the final blow, and she knows he's already crumbling into dust.

"Mom?" asks Lizzie, standing in the doorway. "Mom? What's wrong?"

Kathy doesn't trust herself to speak, so she simply opens her arms. Her daughter comes apprehensively; she isn't a child anymore.

"Is it Dad?" Lizzie wants to know.

"Don't worry, sweetie; I'm all right."

"Yeah, right," says Lizzie, in a tone that would normally get her sent to her room. But these aren't normal times, and even Lizzie, at twelve, knows that things probably won't ever be normal again. "Do you miss him?"

"Yes," says Kathy hesitantly, though in truth she misses the idea of him. An idea was all she really had, near the end.

"Me too," whispers Lizzie, and the millionth pang of guilt stabs Kathy for having done this to her children. "If you miss him," Lizzie begins, and Kathy bows her head, knowing what she's going to say, "why don't you get back together?"

"Oh, honey, it's not that simple," says Kathy, marveling at how well she understates it.

"Yeah it is," says Lizzie, rolling her eyes. "Let's just move back home."

"We can't, Lizzie," says Kathy, trying to keep impatience from entering her voice.

Lizzie stands up, her muscles tense. "Why not? Don't you love Dad anymore?"

Kathy's heart breaks one more time. She can't even count how many times it's shattered over the last six months. Yes, she still loves him. Yes. Yes. But she can't make him love her back the same way, and she's finally given up trying.

Lizzie stalks out of the room at her mother's silence. She blames Kathy for leaving, as does Dickie. Kathleen blames her father for having left years earlier. Maureen blames no one. "It's just one of those things that happens," she'd said before hanging up the phone. And Kathy hates that; hates that their lives have become a statistic.

She's tired. That's it, really. That's why she left, though she wishes her reason had some grandeur to it. She's tired of phone calls at three in the morning, of going to Kathleen's soccer games by herself, and especially of falling asleep alone while knowing he's with her.

It's only a matter of time, she knows, though of course she wishes it weren't so. But wishing has never done her any good. Maybe during one of the infamous late nights, maybe over early morning coffee, or maybe on their way to the thousandth crime scene of that day. They will look at each other and for the first time, they will see. Will she know she's a replacement? A beautiful woman, yes, but attraction falls apart. Perversely, she imagines the scene in her head. Over and over again. He hands her a cup of coffee. She takes it. Their fingers brush. Their eyes meet. The heat stays with them all day. Subtle glances, casual touches infused with something primal. That evening, he walks her to her cab. Before it gets there, he backs her up against the wall of a building – she, for once, willing to surrender control– and kisses her. Gently at first, a little questioning, then stronger and more desperately. She knows how he kisses. Shouldn't she? She's his wife.

She _was_ his wife, anyway. She doesn't quite know what her title is now. Soon-to-be-ex, she supposes, since the papers had arrived in the mail yesterday. She hadn't brought herself to call him yet, so she grabs the phone before she can lose her resolve.

"Hello?"

"It's me, Elliot."

"Kath?" he asks, and she hears him sitting down abruptly in his chair. She almost imagines whispers on the other end.

"The papers arrived yesterday," she says, not bothering with the usual pleasantries. Nothing about this is pleasant.

She hears his breathing grow ragged. "I'm sorry, Kath," he says. "That things had to end up this way."

"Me too," she says quietly. He was meant to be her knight in shining armor.

"So," he says, swallowing, "now what?"

"I'll bring them over tomorrow for you to sign," she says, strangely shy now.

She hears him sigh heavily. "All right." And she can't help wishing he would have fought a little harder for her.

(the end)


End file.
